Medical Procedures
by Lira is a Girl's Name
Summary: Luce Worth has asked Lamont Toucey to do a lot of things for him in the course of their friendship, some more palatable than others. This is one of the less palatable ones. Lamont wishes Worth wasn't getting off so bad. Lamont/Worth, sounding.


AN: This was for an awesome girl on ygal, who reacted to me sparing Worth some really unpleasant sounding in my fic "Never Going to Fit" with a desire for real sounding. And I could so one hundred percent see Worth being into that kind of thing - he's a pretend doctor and likes things normal people find painful, perfect match - so I did it. If you don't like the idea of metal rods going up a dude's urethra, for medical reasons or other, please turn back now. Aside from that, Hanna is Not a Boy's Name is still the property of Tessa Stone, and I am just a highly offensive fan who means no real offense and is making no profit.

.

MEDICAL PROCEDURES

-by: Lira-

.

Lamont had known Luce Worth a very long time, and knew how negotiations with Worth tended to go. Their approach was through the medium of violence, sending messages through a text of bruises and cuts and scrapes, and occasionally broken bones. If Worth wanted something from Lamont, he started a fight. He did not usually tell Lamont flatly that he needed help with a medical procedure and that Lamont should come by the office after Worth had closed up for the night.

As it was a deviation from the norm, Lamont felt a need to take it seriously, to steel himself and show up at Worth's door at four o'clock in the morning. Lamont wasn't sure what to expect, maybe a dead person on the table and the "medical procedure" was just that Worth needed someone else to hold some of the guts while he rearranged them. He wasn't expecting a Worth who was dressed in an undershirt and loose pants, the garments almost looking like a variation on medical scrubs, not when Lamont was quite used to the coat with the ridiculous fur trim. Worth's patients needed that familiarity, in a way.

"Mont. Come in," was what passed for a greeting, Worth reaching for one of Lamont's arms to drag him inside.

"What was the pressing medical procedure?" Lamont asked, upon discovering that his curiosity really was quite piqued.

"Guys get ter abou' our age, have ter start worryin' abou' th' health uv their bodies," Worth said, sounding almost like a real doctor. "Stuff like prostate health."

Worth had walked over to his examination table, and Lamont had trailed after him. But the words made this suddenly ring as even more of set-up, and Lamont could feel the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown.

"If this is you getting creative after all these years, Luce, I'm not impressed," Lamont told him flatly. "There's a certain rustic charm to being punched in the face before the dicks come out."

For once the sarcasm was lost on Worth, who offered Lamont a disgruntled look as he raised his eyes from the small leather package he'd picked up from the counter.

"Tha' wasn't me tellin' yeh we should fuck," Worth said, just as evenly. "Tha' was me tellin' yeh wot th' medical procedure's fer."

"It's really a procedure on you?" Lamont clarified. Somehow, it seemed so much more probable that it was a trick.

"Fuck, Mont, am Aye speakin' words or gibberish?" Worth snapped, expression going even more peeved. "Now wash yer fuckin' hands."

That told Lamont Worth was serious, or at least pretending at it pretty hard. If it wasn't something medical – if it was just fucking – Worth wouldn't care if Lamont was streaked head to foot with motor oil. Lamont backed over to the sink and turned on the water, keeping his eyes on Worth the entire time. The completely out of character request was making him jumpy, and he half expected Worth to try and shave off his fingerprints, or something. Anything that would explain the necessity for clean hands.

When Lamont was done washing, Worth waved the leather case and beckoned for Lamont to come back over. As Lamont slowly took a few steps forward, Worth loosened the drawstring on his pants and started to take them off. Again, Lamont's red flags flared into place.

"Fucking hell, Luce, I thought you said this was a procedure!" he complained again.

"Have yeh ever act'lly been ter a doctor, Mont?" Worth asked back, just as peevishly as before. "Fer anythin' serious? Doan' answer that."

Worth then proceeded to slip out of the pants, and his underwear, and to climb up on the examination table like it was a perfectly natural thing to do. Worth stretched out his skinny legs with what might have been more care than Lamont had seen his friend use for anything. Like it was absolutely crucial that he be positioned just so. Lamont also noticed that Worth had dug out a little cushion from somewhere for his head, even if the thing was an appalling puke yellow that made Lamont wonder if anyone really had puked on it at any point. The last thing that Lamont noticed was that Worth was completely flaccid, and that if nothing else convinced him that there was something more to this than Worth trying to get his rocks off.

Worth positioned the small leather case and began to unfold it, with the same absurd care he'd paid to his position on the table. Lamont moved over to Worth's side almost without meaning to, now fully curious as to what the fuck Worth had on hand. As the case came open, Lamont saw a lot of long, narrow objects that had each been individually wrapped... And a small bottle of lube. Lamont quickly bit back yet another objection that this was a stupid fucking ploy and that he had had enough of it. Worth fingered the objects a bit, and Lamont gathered that he was searching for a particular one. When he found it, he thrust it in Lamont's direction.

"Take it," Worth commanded, when Lamont did nothing. "An' take th' fuckin' lube."

Lamont took the object and took the lube, and as he did the wrapping slid free from what he was grasping. It was a thin metal rod, roughed in the middle where it could be gripped, with a slightly larger oval protrusion on one end. Lamont stared at it for a long moment before his brain allowed him to process what it was. It was a sound.

"You want me to shove this in your dick?" he exclaimed softly, with dawning horror.

"It's a fuckin' examination, Mont," Worth snapped, like this was normal.

"You want me," Lamont said slowly, like Worth was a fucking idiot. "To stick this. Up your urethra. This metal stick?"

From where he was spread out like a corpse, Worth craned his neck upwards just enough to give Lamont a dirty look. "No, Aye want yeh ter shove it in yer own ass an' wiggle it aroun' a lil'. Yes, Ah'll talk yeh through th' fuckin' procedure."

Lamont was already trying to edge away from the table, his own dick aching unpleasantly with sympathy to the thought. He had a brief hope that Worth would not expect to return the favor once they were done. Once, and not if, because Lamont could already feel the resignation sinking in, the dim echo in his brain that told him he was going to do as Worth decreed. Lamont was perfectly happy trying to smash Worth's face in, but inserting anything into one of a guy's most sensitive parts wasn't something he tended to contemplate.

"Yer hands are clean," Worth said, slow and patient now, painfully slow, like he knew Lamont had given in already and he just needed to be clear with the idiot. "So squirt a lil' uv that inter yer hand. 'S not like yeh doan' know wot lube is fer."

Lamont returned Worth's dirty look then, leaning close so he knew he'd be seen, but he did measure out a dollop of the gel.

"An' Aye know yer plenty used ter th' equipment," Worth continued, warmth seeping into his voice like he was enjoying himself, the fucking bastard. "So grab on. Yeh wan ter jes' get th' lube in th' opening, doan' worry 'bout everythin' else."

If Lamont grabbed Worth a bit too hard in complying, there was no outward sign from his friend. But then again, Worth would fucking like that anyway. Lamont slathered the lube in the general direction of Worth's slit. There wasn't anything overt beyond the fact that Worth was clearly trying to be as much of an ass as possible with the whole thing, but somehow the combination of fingers sticky with lube and a dick gripped in his hand made Lamont's dick twitch in his pants in a more interested fashion.

He had to stop for a moment out of surprise, because his brain still wasn't finding the arrangements particularly arousing.

"That stick in yer hand," Worth continued. "Th' sound, Aye know yeh know wot it is, yeh want ter roll that in th' lube a lil' first."

Obligingly, Lamont rolled the head of the metal rod against the head of Worth's cock, watching it swirl through the gel until a visible layer was formed.

"Good boy," Worth said, condescendingly.

Clearly he could tell that Lamont was getting comfortable again and needed to make Lamont grit his teeth in frustrated irritation. He was starting to want to just jam the thing in as far as it would go and see if that, like nothing else, could make Worth fucking scream bloody murder.

"If Aye have ter tell yeh ter slip it in slowly, Ah'll wring yer fuckin' neck when we're done," Worth cautioned.

The irritation, coupled with the vague interest from his dick that hadn't actually flagged, caused Lamont to hesitate a moment while he looked at the implement in his hand. After that, he simply pressed the bulb of the thing where it was supposed to go and began to slip it in. His brain informed him that it slid a lot easier than shoving his dick in someone's asshole, so easily that he was almost suspicious.

"If it catches, yeh stop," Worth interjected.

"What if I don't stop?" Lamont countered.

"Aye already told yeh," Worth pronounced. "Aye wring yer neck."

It was a logical answer, yet not one Lamont was afraid of. That would happen sooner or later whether on not he damaged Worth's equipment. Worth might try harder if he was damaged, though... It was almost tempting. After so many years of violence linked inextricably with sex, the thought made Lamont's dick twitch harder than before. Fuck, if he had to go jerk off in Worth's disgusting bathroom...

Actually, Lamont thought he might be beginning to understand the point of the whole exercise.

Lamont wriggled the sound gently instead of forcing it, the urge to just shove it in evaporating. Worth probably wanted to make him mad so he'd fuck it up and cause Worth pain. As things were it was a medical procedure which had a genuine purpose, but Worth must still expect he could turn it into something more like sexual torture. And Worth would expect Lamont to start getting off after that.

"One reason for sounding is to remove blockages, isn't it?" Lamont asked, using every last scrap of willpower to stay just as calm as Worth was.

"One uv 'em," Worth agreed, easily.

"So you had a blockage in your dick?" Lamont supposed, still in his best clinical voice. "I wonder if it hurt to masturbate. You probably liked that."

Worth was giving him a bit of a funny look, like he hadn't caught up yet.

"What convinced you to fix it?" Lamont continued. "I hear it would at least hurt to pee. Did you get blue balls, Luce? Seems that's your ulterior motive half the time I come around."

"Shut up, Mont, and wriggle the fuckin' stick yeh have jammed in my fuckin' dick," Worth told him, in the exact same tone Lamont had been using.

"You do like it," Lamont said, so that it wasn't even an accusation.

"Ah'd like it better if yeh would get th' damn thing th' rest uv th' way in," Worth said, so that the strain started to show through.

Lamont slid the rod in just a bit farther, just a tiny measure, glancing at what was left of the handle to guess at how much farther the thing could go.

"The other reason sounding is used, for medical purposes," Lamont said, the studious tone again. "Is for examining prostate problems. You told me yourself. There something wrong, Luce?"

"There ain't anythin' fuckin' wrong," Worth grit out. "'Cept yeh refusin' ter finish th' fuckin' procedure."

Lamont shrugged, slid the sound as far as it seemed to go, and then slid it back out an inch. He had an idea of what he was pressing against in that area, even if the thought of stimulating anything this way still made him cringe and want to clamp his legs together. And so he continued to wriggle the instrument, bump it against parts of Worth he could safely touch no other way.

The fact that Worth was gritting his teeth again, a grimace that could have been pain but Lamont knew meant pleasure, was confirmation enough. Worth was getting off on this, even though he couldn't even get hard with the sound still inserted. It... Wasn't even frustrating, once Lamont knew that he was right. It was fucking surreal to see Worth like that, when Lamont wasn't touching himself and wasn't trying to cause Worth pain, was practically spectating for all of the emotion he was involving.

And it felt an awful lot more powerful than when they were beating the fuck out of each other or seeing who would get to do the fucking that round. If Lamont felt like it, he could just jam the sound in to the hilt, and Worth might not ever recover from that. Lamont didn't know how his dick would heal. The clear problem being that he was used to finding pretenses to jump Worth's bones, used to getting socked in the gut or the mouth so Worth could do the same to him. It was a dimension of their friendship that could not be eliminated without severely compromising the structural support, a dimension Lamont did not even want to damage.

Moving the sound became an interesting task, allowing Lamont to dispassionately view the minute changes in Worth's expression, as it screwed up before smoothing itself back out. It was almost fun, when he remembered to not think about a role reversal.

"You think your dick's better, Luce?" Lamont finally asked. "Wouldn't want my hand to slip."

Worth grunted, and blinked his eyes once. "Yeh wan' ter slide it back out jes' as slow."

Lamont didn't bother arguing. He wanted to see Worth try and pass this off once there wasn't a metal rod inserted in his junk. The sound came out fairly easily, catching a little on what Lamont could only guess at, but finally sliding free of Worth's equipment.

"Ah'm gunna need ter sterilize that," Worth said, before sitting up.

Worth eased up from the table slowly, like his back was tired from the uncomfortable metal resting place even though Lamont knew Worth had slept in worse places. His hand slid into place around his dick when he did, maybe checking to see if it was really still attached properly. Lamont squashed the urge to roll his eyes when the process included perhaps a little too much stroking.

And even though Lamont thought he had solved it, he had to ask. He always had to ask.

"What the /fuck/ was that? No, really, what the fuck was that, because I'm sure your equipment was fucking fine."

"Aye told yeh," Worth said, evenly. "'S like a check-up."

"You're full of shit."

"Yeh'll have ter come back fer another examination if yeh wan' ter check that," Worth told him, an obvious taunt.

Lamont didn't feel especially bad about punching him in the face while Worth was still sitting on the examination table. Worth only managed to clip him on the ear in response.

They didn't actually start fighting. Worth just told Lamont to fuck off, and Lamont told Worth to see if he had any other medical apparatus he could shove in some of his other orifices. And then they laughed, like it was just another fight, and like Lamont hadn't just done something that even for them felt a little bit weird. And then he left.

And then he popped into the all-night convenience store on the next street over, because even their bathroom was cleaner for masturbating in than the one in Worth's office.


End file.
